


Journey

by RavenXavier



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Multi, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 01:54:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2833880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenXavier/pseuds/RavenXavier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em> Was it love for the stars or my love for you that made me so quick on my feet?</em><br/><em> I would fly forever for you, because you are love, </em><br/><em> And we are shining, shining together, like all our ancestors did, </em><br/><em> So long, so long ago. </em> </p><p>(In which Marius spends a week on a ship with Cosette and Eponine to join back his friends after a misadventure with bandits, and has a lot of feelings not only about them as people, but also about their mysterious relationship together.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Journey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Solshine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solshine/gifts).



> Hello, and HAPPY HOLIDAYS. I'm so happy you gave me the possibility to work on Cosette, Eponine and Marius, I've got so many feelings about them, I hope you enjoy this story!!! :D (to be honest, there was supposed to be so much more plot than this, but I procrastinated, and it would have been impossible to end on time if i was persisted with my first ideas)
> 
> Thanks so so much to Chloé, who is a wonderful, amazing beta with the patience of a saint and who knows exactly what tone to take when I try to fight to keep my commas in the story, even though they're "unnecessary". You're the absolute best.

Marius doesn’t know how long he stays in the complete dark, but it’s enough for the fear to kick in. He curls up around himself, his hands shaking, his breath coming fast and loud, and he wonders if maybe death wouldn’t have been a more enviable fate than this one. He’d felt so clever, so _relieved,_ when the bandits had lowered their weapons earlier - an eternity ago - and merely put metal cuffs around his wrists before pushing him on board of their ship. He had expected the confinement and the cell, of course - but not the dark.

The dark has been his enemy since he was a child. He can’t remember a time when he didn’t have to leave the curtains open at night, climbing clumsily on the armchair that was the throne of his nanny to stare at the three moons of Earth the Fifth and finally falling asleep there, feeling safer than in his big and too cold bed. His grandfather found the phobia utterly ridiculous, like many other things about Marius. One day, he had decided that the best way to cure him was to put him in a pitch-black room of the house, and leave him there until he learnt to _confront that childish fear like a man._ Marius had been seven.

He’d cried and screamed and pleaded until his voice had failed him. Afterwards, his tears had been silent. The room was almost empty, but he’d found an old chair to hide under. He didn’t close his eyes. He wanted to be aware of everything. If a shadow had moved, he would have seen it immediately and, although he had no protection whatsoever against it, he found it more reassuring than to be taken by surprise.

In the end, the only thing that had come for him was his aunt, as proper and distant as always, her tone just slightly distasteful as she’d said it was time for dinner. Young Marius had kept his eyes firmly on the ground, almost blinded by so much light again, and then had spent three days incapable of speaking a word, right until his grandfather had taken him on his lap, one of his wrinkled hand affectionately caressing his back, and said: _Come now Marius. The dark didn’t do anything to you, did it? You were a brave boy in there, I say you can still be now. And if grandpa says something, it’s true, isn’t it?”_

“ _Yes, Grandfather,”_ Marius had softly answered, unused but comforted by his grandfather’s compliment. This fragile happiness had lasted a whole week. Marius had pretended he wasn’t still opening his curtains when he went to sleep, and his grandfather had never forced him back in a completely black room ever again.

Maybe he should have, Marius thinks now, his eyes wide open even though he can’t see a thing. Maybe, if his grandfather had persisted, Marius wouldn’t feel so on edge, his heart beating so fast that it might just burst out of his chest. He could wait in a dignified posture and silence for his jailers to come back to him - perhaps sleep, if they decided to wait tomorrow.

 _Oh god, what if they wait until tomorrow,_ Marius panics, and he bites his tongue to stop a whimper. He hasn’t been that close to tears since he left his father’s small grave. His rational thoughts are slowly fading away, and the dark seems to be closing in, invisible shadow fingers grasping at his clothes, sliding along the back of his neck, reaching for him, reaching for _more,_ and it feels like he’s dying when suddenly light is there again, bright and everywhere. Marius raises his head almost fearfully, and for a brief, absurd moment, believes that it’s his aunt standing in front of the door again, telling him to come eat - but no.

After a few seconds, he recognizes one of the men who kidnapped him. He’s rather small, with thick reddish hair and a large nose. He’s got the brutish air of people who have only ever known violence, and gets impatient when Marius doesn’t move (not sure he’s capable of getting on his feet yet, or even if it’s _expected_ of him).

“The boss is waiting for you,” the man growls, jerking his head towards the long corridor behind him.

“Um, alright,” Marius says, clearing his throat, and awkwardly tries to get up even though his tied-up hands aren’t making it easy.

He’s pretty sure he spots the man smirking from the corner of his eyes, and he feels his whole neck burning in embarrassment. It’s however quick to fade once he’s finally standing on his two legs properly and he steps out of his jail with only some mild wavering. Relief washes through him. He knows that what is going to follow isn’t going to be pleasant, he knows that some worse things are probably on their way, but at least _he’s not in this room anymore,_ and for now that is enough to obediently follow the red-haired man, who doesn’t say another word during the whole time it takes them to get to the bridge.

The bridge is _huge,_ which surprises Marius, as the rest of the ship is rather small. However, he doesn’t have time to be amazed by the size of the screen right in front of him or the large windows that show that they’re still in orbit around the planet. His attention is immediately stolen by the two men who are standing side by side next to the large transparent table behind the commandant chair. They both are somewhat mesmerizing; the first one for his face, long and pale with high rosy cheekbones and full lips, his dark, silky hair that falls just underneath his aristocratic chin and his _clothes,_ bright silver and green and looking so well-made they could probably belong to the Prince himself; the second for the gorgeous, old-fashioned mask that covers the better part of his face, full of bright green and delicate black and golden lines intertwining in a multitudes of curls, and his giant size. Marius isn’t small by any mean, and yet he has to raise his eyes to properly look at him. Underneath the mask, the man has thin, white lips who Marius isn’t sure actually _move_ when a soft, low voice rises in the silence:

“Hello, Translator,” it says. “I have some questions for you.”

Earlier, in that alley where they had managed to corner him, Marius had distinctly remembered Bossuet’s advice: _Give them something they can’t refuse. Give them something that means keeping you alive._ The words had been circling in his head even as he’d started to stammer about the very important papers he was carrying for his Majesty the Prince himself - that he was just a Translator, ones of the last to know how to speak the old languages of the First Earth, and that’s why he’d been entrusted with such a huge task. Somehow, they had believed him, but what seemed like a brilliant success at the time now feels like a simple miracle - for as hard as he tries, Marius cannot think of anything his friends has ever told him in case he was caught in the lie before they managed to find him.

Still - he’s pretty sure most of Courfeyrac and Bossuet’s tips generally revolve around _looking confident._ Of course, it’s easy for _them_ to say _._ Marius, who’s so awkward every time he has to speak to another human being, doesn’t have the natural talent that they have for making themselves tall and charming and assured of every word that falls from their lips. Marius is pretty sure he would look ridiculous if he even tried that himself. And so he’s left to stare at the man who wears the mask, silently hoping that his fear doesn’t come up as suspicious but rather _completely justified._

“Yes?” he says in a shaky breath.

“You said to my men here that those papers you held were written in old First Earth Languages.” The man says - is it even the man? His lips are still, Marius is almost completely sure now. “Aren’t the old First Earth languages _French_ and _English_? I know those.”

“There were more than two, contrary to what most people are told,” Marius says and - oh, this is surprisingly easy to talk, maybe because he knows his history, and he isn’t telling a lie at all. “You might have heard the dialect spoken in several planets called _Canton._ It’s derived from _Chinese,_ which was another First Earth language. As for the papers I have - you have now - they’re in _Germanic_.”

“And you say you know how to read it?”

“Um, yes. I do,” Marius answers.

“How?” the man asks, putting his two very large hands on the table, little silver eyes staring at him through the mask. “If those are unknown languages, how would you have learnt them?”

“My Grandfather - his family has accumulated things since the First Generations - there were books in his library. Paper books.”

The men stare at him, and Marius is suddenly grateful for the cuffs, because at least they stop his hands from fidgeting. Do they believe him? Are they thinking about the best way to get rid of him already? He can’t help but tense when the other boy leans towards the masked man and whispers something in his ear, his long fingers curling around the man’s wrist. The movement opens his jacket a little, just enough for Marius to see the beautifully carved knife secured against the boy’s hip.

It’s rare, nowadays, to see those kind of weapons. Everybody prefers guns, laser or not - they’re cheaper and more efficient. Knives belong to another era entirely, and are considered quite barbaric. Marius tells himself he’s not terrified when suddenly the boy’s eyes turn towards _him,_ a glint of interest in them, but his sweaty palms and quick heartbeat are showing the truth, obvious for everyone to see. The boy notices, because his lips rises just the slightest in an amused smirk. Marius is suddenly, impossibly, reminded of Enjolras, which is insulting for him, since Enjolras’ smiles, however small, are always much warmer than the boy’s right now.

“My men believe you, and I’m inclined to do the same,” the masked man says suddenly, and Marius’ eyes jump back to him again nervously. “Now, you talked of _hidden treasures._ What sort of treasure exactly?”

“I don’t know,” Marius says, still honest.

“You don’t know?” The boy repeats, raising a delicate eyebrow. His voice is lower than Marius had imagined, and icy cold. The question feels like a threat.

“The papers,” Marius stammers, “the papers are - they don’t say exactly what the treasures are, they only give their general location. His Majesty the Prince might know but I -”

“You’re lying,” the boy hisses, and takes a step forwards, only stopped by the large hand of the masked man which flies to his shoulder. The boy looks at him, clearly offended, but the masked man completely ignores him, his little silver eyes fixed on Marius.

“What is the location, then?” he asks.

Marius is about to respond when the ship violently shake. Immediately, everybody on the bridge stiffen before they all turn towards the windows and computers, clearly agitated. Unbalanced by the sudden movement, Marius awkwardly grabs the table not to fall, and doesn’t realize that that the boy is launching for him until it’s too late. Before he knows it, he’s pinned against the table, the knife underneath his chin, and the boy’s face is so close that Marius can see the very small white scars on his nose.

“Are they your friends then?” He asks, cold furor in his tone. “Are you _chipped?_ ”

“No!” Marius says, all too aware of the feeling of the cold blade against his skin. He doesn’t say _not anymore,_ because he’s still sensible enough to realize that it wouldn’t do him any good, but even without that precision, it’s clear enough that the boy doesn’t believe him. His grip on Marius’ collar tightens, and somehow it’s only thanks to that that Marius doesn’t trip again when the ship shakes once more. He doesn’t understand why everything is going so wrong until the ship’s AI suddenly appears in the most basic holographic form (a tall and thin robot with no hair and blank eyes) and Marius’ logic kicks in - _the ship is being attacked._

“Alert, Intruder on board, alert, intruder on board, alert, engines in critical condition, alert -” The AI says.

“ _Shut up!_ ” The masked man roared, his soft voice completely gone. “Visual of the intruder, now!”

The largest screen lights up and shows a corridor - Marius is pretty sure it’s actually the corridor they used to come here earlier. There’s also a woman - a girl? - who’s casually walking, two laser guns in her hands, her face closed off. Everybody seems to freeze, and Marius hears the boy next to him takes a sharp breath.

“What the hell _she’s_ doing here?” The red-haired man asks.

“Not important,” The masked man answers. “She’s trespassing, and if she thinks she’s going to get away with it because of history, she’s wrong - Montparnasse, let go of the stupid boy, I want her secure as soon as she goes through those doors.”

The boy - Montparnasse - looks for an instant like he’s going to protest; since Marius sincerely doesn’t see how he could still be seen as a threat right now, he guesses that it has something to do with the girl and the way he looked at her a moment ago rather than him. Still, Montparnasse reluctantly releases Marius, his lips pursed into something that oddly resembles a pout, and goes to the door, knife between his fingers and carefully positioned at his side.

It feels like the entire ship is holding its breath during the next minute or so, as they all watch the girl walk towards them. Marius has no idea who she could possibly be, but the fact that all those men, who are scary on their own right, seem to be wary of her makes him quite terrified himself. The situation which was already far from ideal is completely slipping from his hands now, and he just looks helplessly at the doors when they finally open and the girl appears.

Time speeds up again as Montparnasse immediately jumps on her. Although she doesn’t seem that surprised, the girl let go of one of her guns, curses, and grabs Montparnasse’s wrist before he can use his knife. Then, her lips curl up in a odd, amused little smile, and she points her other gun on Montparnasse’s torso, leaning slightly to murmur something to him that Marius doesn’t hear. Whatever it is, it makes Montparnasse angry, because he kicks her in the knees and manages to take her arm and twist it just as she fires. One of the door is hit by the shot instead, but the girl doesn’t give up, and starts to give back every blow that Montparnasse tries to throw her way.

Marius watches them fight, both afraid and weirdly fascinated by the efficiency and grace of their movements. After a while though, he begins to realize that something is weird in the way they each go for the other; It doesn’t take him long to recognize what it is: they’re fighting like _Les Amis_ fight when they’re training against each other. It’s not tension or planning that is making them stare at each other a bit too much, it’s _restraint._

Marius glances at the other members of the ship. Do they realize it too? Do they know that Montparnasse isn’t doing his best to obey orders? Is it _normal_? It might be; he remembers the masked man talking about history. That would also explain why nobody is going to help Montparnasse - if they all went for the girl, surely she would have no chance at all. Instead, everybody stares but stays still, right until it becomes clear that Montparnasse is _losing._

The red-haired man and one of his companions, a large man with an enormous beard and almost no hair at all, take a step forward. Montparnasse catches the movement, and snarls “ _No”_ before punching the girl in the stomach; she bends over, her breath taken away, but it doesn’t stop her from reaching for the knife again. This time, she surprises Montparnasse enough that the weapon ends up planted in his thigh. Montparnasse yells, his leg giving up underneath him, and the girl violently hit him on the head with her gun before immediately pointing it in the direction of the red-haired man and bearded man, who recoil quite obviously.

Marius just stares at Montparnasse, who fell on the ground, unconscious. He’s pretty sure that he found the boy absurdly intimidating just moments ago, but now he suddenly seems _fragile,_ and fear twists his stomach. If the girl decides to take them all out, he’s clearly a dead man.

“Enough,” the masked man says, his voice soft again and his tone dismissive. “What do you want, Miss Thénardier?”

The girl glances at him without lowering her weapon.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumours already,” she says. Her voice is sharp and low, and it fits her appearance; despite the fight she’s just been in, she’s standing tall, and her face is determined, a mixture of wariness and contempt fighting in her brown eyes. “I’m looking for my father and sister. I figured if anyone knew where they were now, _you_ would.”

“Flattering,” the masked man says and then, ignoring the way _Miss Thénardier_ rolls her eyes, continues almost as an after-thought: “I might know. For the right price. What do you have to offer to me?”

“Your life,” Miss Thénardier says flatly, and redirects the gun towards him.

“Careful,” the masked-man says lightly. “We have more guns than you.”

Miss Thénardier snorts.

“And so what?” she retorts, unimpressed. “Do you think I’m scared of you? Of _any_ of you? Yeah, yeah, you’re all very big scary men, but I’ve already managed to get here and take out your personal guard dog, which as we all know is your biggest defense line. I’ve been raised by a wolf, Claquesous, you’re not going to _intimidate_ me. Now, are you going to tell me where they are?”

“I severely dislike impertinence,” the masked man answers.

“And _I_ don’t like to wait,” Miss Thénardier says.

“There’s nothing for you there,” Claquesous says, and the words sound final in Marius’ ears, but apparently not in Miss Thénardier’s.

“Shame,” she says, and before anybody can react, she shoots right above Claquesous’ shoulder and hits one of the men behind him who’s illuminated for a brief second by a weird green halo before he collapses on the ground. “What about now?”

“You’ve overstayed your welcome,” Claquesous growls. “Someone kill her!”

Marius ducks under the table the moment every man on the ship draw out guns. From there at least, he’ll have a vague chance of not being hit accidentally, although this position will do him no good if he’s voluntarily targeted. He can still see Miss Thénardier from here, and her face is blank when she shoots again, and again, and again. She avoids easily the laser beams that come her way, but then the men start to shoot _bullets,_ and she quickly touches something on her wrist. A pale, golden shield rises around her just in time, and the bullets dissolve immediately at its contact.

Taking advantage of her adversaries’ the clear surprise, Miss Thénardier shoots some more people, until one man - Marius can’t see which one - yells that the shield only protects from bullets and not from people, and two others rush to her; she hits the first one, but the second gets to her and almost manages to take her weapon. She growls, looking suddenly feral, and punches him hard on the jaw before grabbing him by the shoulders and forcing him to get in between her and a new laser beam. The man falls. Another is trying to creep behind her --

“Watch out!” Marius shouts before he can think about it, and Miss Thénardier’s eyes fall on him for half a second before she turns around and kicks the man right in the groin, then in the chin.

The fight has taken them away from Montparnasse’s collapsed body. Marius glances at him, and realizes with a jolt of adrenaline that nobody has thought of taking Miss Thénardier’s other gun, the one Montparnasse managed to pull out of her hand earlier. It’s _right there,_ lying on the ground, and Marius can hear Bahorel’s voice, as if he was at his side: “ _arm yourself”._ At this point, nobody is paying attention to him at all. Miss Thénardier is busy fighting the last few men still standing, and Claquesous is bent over something that Marius can’t see. Something that must be bravery or maybe foolishness take over Marius’ brain and before he knows it, he’s half-crawling, half-running to the gun.

When his hand curls up around the handle, he almost laughs, incapable of believing that this actually _worked._ Instead, he bites his tongue, repressing any involuntary sound coming off his mouth, and turns around again to see what is happening. Miss Thénardier is surrounded by men on the ground, but two others - the only ones still standing apparently - are giving her some troubles. Marius knows he’s not a good enough shot to risk trying to help her and frowns hesitantly until his eyes catch some strange light on the side. He looks up and gapes.

Claquesous’ mask is now brightly illuminated by green and gold. And his fingers - his fingers are, too. Golden light is crackling around them, as if impatient to be let out, impatient to _hurt,_ and Marius has seen it already, only once, but the idea that _Claquesous,_ of all people, could have actually mastered the art of _magic…_ His bemusement is quickly replaced by fear when Claquesous, pale lips deformed in a furious snarl, slowly raises his hands towards Miss Thénardier. Marius looks at her, panicked, but she’s lost her other gun, and she’s busy with the last man who’s fighting, and what could she even do against _magic?_ Marius has seen what such power can do - once it’s thrown at you, there is no escape…

 _It hasn’t been thrown yet,_ he thinks. He looks down at the gun between his fingers, troubled, and then points it at Claquesous, his hand strangely steady, and shoots.

Marius’ vision seems to narrow down to the beam that goes right for Claquesous and finishes its course in the middle of his stomach. The light fades away, even though the mask keeps shining softly, and Claquesous makes a soft high-pitched noise as the green halo surrounds him before he falls, motionless. Marius stares.

A few months ago, almost a year after he met Courfeyrac and Bossuet, _Les Amis_ had decided that he couldn’t just be constantly around them and not be _one of them,_ no matter how disastrous their first meeting had been. Being in their group meant that Marius needed training, and Grantaire had been the one to teach him how to shoot - not only because he was the best shooter but because he seemed genuinely amused by Marius’ clumsiness and was, surprisingly, the most patient with him.

“ _Laser beams are easy,”_ Grantaire had said one afternoon, idly playing with one of the guns while Marius was eyeing it nervously. _“Beams are large and go on a straight line. Easy to shoot someone, easy to avoid it if you’re being shot at and see it coming. Bullets are much sneakier.”_

Marius had never actually shot someone before, no matter how many lessons he’d been made to take. Perhaps in a corner of his mind he had expected Claquesous, who was clearly experimented, to “see it coming”. But he hadn’t, and now he was - he was - and _Marius_ had did it. Feeling vaguely sick, Marius barely notices the gun falling from his shaking hand, and startles hard when someone touches his shoulder before jerking away from the gesture.

“Hey, easy now,” Miss Thénardier says, her voice suddenly soft. When Marius looks at her, she’s frowning pensively at him, a bruise already forming on her jaw, “Who are you, then?”

“Marius,” he answers a second too late. “I’m - I’m Marius.”

“Marius,” she repeats, and then leans toward him again, more carefully than the first time, her large dark eyes piercing and wary. “Why did you help me?”

“I don’t know,” he says, a bit helplessly, because he really doesn’t. “it just - seemed like the thing to do.”

“One girl against fifteen men, and you put the odds on the girl?” Miss Thénardier asks dubiously, raising an eyebrow.

“They were scared of you before you even took Montparnasse out,” Marius says weakly. “Besides, I wasn’t that wrong, right? You’re - you’re very good, clearly. I only know two, maybe three people who fight as well as you.”

That seems to be the right thing to say - Miss Thénardier’s face softens even as she bites down a proud smile, and she reaches for Marius’ wrists, still locked up in the metal cuffs. She examines them for a moment, then nods and her hand dives into one of the pockets of her visibly used brown leather jacket, taking out a smaller, more compact gun. Marius has never seen those kind before, but he can’t help but flinch all the same when she puts it carefully against the cuffs.

“Um -” he tries.

“Don’t move,” Miss Thénardier orders him sharply.

She fires. Marius receives a very small discharge of electricity, and then he’s free again. He blinks at the destroyed cuffs on the ground, then looks up again to see that Miss Thénardier is already rising up. He follows her by getting on his feet, massaging his wrists softly.

“Thank you,” he says hesitantly.

Miss Thénardier barely looks at him, but her lips curl up slightly.

“You saved my life,” she points out, and then suddenly she seems all business again. “Alright then Marius. I’ve got some files to recover on their computer, and it might take some time. You seemed like a pretty observant guy, so keep watch for me will you? Wouldn’t want one those guys to wake up a bit too early.”

Marius stumbles over nothing.

“They’re not dead?” he asks, disbelief and relief making his voice faint and high-pitched.

Miss Thénardier tenses. She stares at Marius for a moment, her face suddenly blank again, and Marius flinches, ready to apologize, but she turns her head before, busying herself with the keyboard of the main computer.

“Of course they’re not,” she says, her tone almost daring him to contradict her. “I’m not a killer,” she continues briskly. “Now keep watch and shut up, and then we’ll leave this fucking ship.”

Marius meekly turns his eyes away from her terse profile, and stays silent.

 

*

 

To Marius’ relief, nobody wakes up while Miss Thénardier is working, and after a very long moment spent looking at unconscious bodies, the only sound on the bridge being Miss Thénardier’s typing, they make their way down the ship to a large hangar.

Miss Thénardier’s ride turns out to be a _Jet,_ round and barely big enough for two passengers - and small ones at that. Marius has to awkwardly bend his head to properly fit in it, his knees almost pressed to his chest again. He struggles for a moment with the security belt until Miss Thénardier visibly takes pity of him, the hint of a smile finally back on her lips, and helps him.

“Sorry,” she says, “my usual passenger is way smaller than you. Don’t worry though, we’re not going to be in there for long.”

“Have you got a ship?” Marius asks shyly, wondering if he’s allowed to talk again.

“Yes,” Miss Thénardier says, as she turns the engines on. “I’m taking you back there and we’ll figure out what to do with you afterwards.”

“Alright,” says Marius and holds on to his belt as the _Jet_ gets off the ground.

Miss Thénardier must have had programmed something, because the doors of the hanger open by themselves when the Jet is close enough, and they fly away from the ship. Marius’ hands stay curled up around the belt, and he looks at the enormous planet near them, conflicted. He doesn’t know exactly where he’s going now, or even if he can trust Miss Thénardier at all; did she decide to take him with her simply because he saved her life? If he tells her the truth, will she help him or decide that he’s _valuable_? Is she a bandit? An ally of the empire? A lone revolutionary?

“You’re thinking very loudly,” says Miss Thénardier abruptly.

Marius blinks and glances at her. She’s staring straight in front of her, frowning again.

“Sorry?” he mutters awkwardly.

“Never mind,” she says, a shadow crossing her face before she clears her throat and asks: “So, how did you even end up in the hands of Patron-Minette anyway?”

“They cornered me when I was in an alley,” Marius tells her, because there’s point in lying about that particular moment. “They wanted my money, but I didn’t have any, and I thought they were going to kill me, so I told them that I had very important papers for his Majesty the Prince that talked about treasures and that I was the only one who could translate them. I figured, if they were thieves, they’d be interested.”

“Clever,” Miss Thénardier says with a small, appreciative smile.

“Lucky, more like,” Marius says with a slight blush. “I’m not a very good liar.”

“Fooled them long enough,” she notes with a shrug, and then she looks properly at him for a moment. “It was pretty dangerous to be on Earth the Second if you’re not a good liar, though.”

Marius can feel the red on his cheeks spread to his neck again.

“Um, yeah,” he only answers.

Miss Thénardier stays silent, still staring at him, and Marius knows that she’s probably waiting for an explanation on what the hell he could have been doing on a planet nicknamed _The Bandits Land,_ but Marius is too uncertain to talk, and, anyway, he’s pretty sure most of Les Amis would give him a sermon if he decided to trust a stranger that he met so near Earth the Second, even if the stranger in question seems far less dangerous right now in this little cockpit than she had earlier, the pale light inside the Jet showing off the tired lines around her eyes and the ugliness of her new bruise. Even if she had probably saved his life.

After a while, she seems to give up, rolling her eyes and muttering _“Never mind”_ again, and she stops asking questions, concentrating on her flight. Marius, feeling a bit guilty, doesn’t try to start a new conversation either, and it’s in a slightly awkward silence that they spend the rest of the journey.

Like Miss Thénardier had said, it isn’t long until a ship appears in full view. It’s small and oval, its pale grey color telling Marius that it’s pretty old; he’s never been very interested in ship design but long nights stuck in the same room as Les Amis and listening to Combeferre and Feuilly enthusiastically talking about old-school ships and making little aluminium models had left him with some knowledge, just enough that he knows now that the ship must date from the very early start of the Fifth Generations. He’s never seen a real one before, and he stares, quietly impressed, while Miss Thénardier operates the Jet so it can go through the door that is slowly opening for them.

The hangar, contrary to the Patron-Minette’s ship, isn’t big at all. Miss Thénardier carefully lands the Jet, and then stays still for a little while, looking at her hands and breathing slowly. Marius looks at her, uncertain.

“Are you alright?” he asks impulsively.

Miss Thénardier doesn’t quite startle, but when she glances at Marius, it’s almost with surprise.

“Of course,” she says, and clears her throat. “Let’s go. You can get out by yourself?”

Marius’ answering blush almost makes her smile again. He does manage to get out fairly easily, although he lightly hits his head when he tries to raise it too quickly, and then he’s on solid ground again. He stays still for a few seconds, at loss at what to do, until he realizes that he should probably at least move in front of the Jet to join Miss Thénardier instead of stupidly staring at its side. He has barely arrived at her heels when the door that separates the hangar from presumably the rest of the ship abruptly opens and he tenses all over again.

“ _Eponine!_ ” The person standing behind the door immediately yells with an odd mixture of anger and relief.

The light of the hangar, which was rather poor, suddenly brightens considerably. Marius blinks quickly a few times, adjusting, and then focus again on the person, who turns out to be another girl with light brown skin and dark, messy curls that are falling over her face. She’s got a jacket on that is way too big for her, and it’s falling a bit from her shoulder; the sight of her naked skin, however small and insignificant, keeps Marius riveted; it’s like he’s just been hit, right in the stomach, and now his mind is dizzy and it’s hard to breathe. _She’s beautiful,_ he thinks, incapable of stopping himself from staring. He feels a bit light-headed when she raises her hand to push her hair away, revealing two warm brown eyes bordered by long dark eyelashes that soften her frown and the displeased curl of her small mouth. She has a little nose, too, and a myriad of freckles around and on it; Marius wishes suddenly he was closer to her, so he could count every one of them.

When he finally manages to tear his eyes away from her face, Marius realizes that she’s wearing a dress, a long floaty thing that hides most of her neck and falls under her knees. The sight of the colorful tissue, bright red with white flowers on it, is perfectly enchanting, like the rest of her. He could probably watch her for hours - observe every little movement, decipher every expression she shows.

Right now, for example, she seems tense and nervous and maybe a bit angry; She’s curled her fingers around her jacket, and her frown has deepened; her lips are moving -

Marius blushes, ashamed; he’s been so entranced by the girl that he hasn’t even realized that Miss Thénardier and her have started to talk. Hoping very hard that neither of them had noticed, he hastily concentrates again properly on their voices.

“ - a note!” The girl is saying, her tone firm. “You know better than to leave alone, I can’t believe you didn’t take me with you -”

“I went after Patron-Minette,” Miss Thénardier interrupts her like she’s spilling a dark secret. “There were people there that I couldn’t risk you to -”

“We’ve _talked_ about this, Eponine!” The girl says, sounding almost hurt.

“Yes,” Miss Thénardier - well, Eponine apparently - says, her voice softer than Marius has ever heard yet. When he glances at her though, she’s staring at the girl with a frown, clearly defensive. “I thought we had reached an agreement - if it’s dangerous for you -”

“ _Us,_ ” The girl corrects her immediately. “ _Both of us._ ”

“I can handle myself,” Eponine bristles.

“I never doubted that,” The girl says, gentler and sadder than before. “I wish you would start believing me when I say that _I_ can handle it too.”

This seems to hit Eponine hard. Her face closes off but her eyes, more troubled than before, stays fixed on the girl who looks right back at her in silence, her mouth still curled downwards. Marius simply watches them, both unsure of what to do and intrigued. The girl is holding herself in a peculiar way, half of her body leaning forwards while her feet are firmly set on the ground, as if she wants to reach out for Eponine but knows better. Eponine seems as careful and restrained - perhaps even more, her hands hidden in the pockets of her jacket, her head slightly lowered.

It seems like the silence has lasted an eternity when the girl finally speaks again after clearing her throat delicately.

“Did you get any information from them, then?” she asks.

Eponine shrugs.

“They weren’t very cooperative, but I managed to hack their computer good, thanks to Marius here.”

Marius startles slightly when he hears his name. He’s been so caught on in whatever was going on between the two of them that he’s forgotten that he wasn’t merely an invisible observer. The girl blinks, as if she’s surprised to see him here too, and the she raises her eyebrows and smiles lightly, shyly, and it’s so absurdly beautiful that Marius blushes hard again, and almost doesn’t hear her next sentence.

“-lo. I’m sorry, I’ve been rude. I’m Cosette - thank you for helping Eponine.”

“Um, I didn’t - I mean, really, she saved me,” Marius stammers.

Cosette’s smile brightens, but thankfully it’s directed to Eponine this time, and although Marius still feels like his knees are getting weaker, he manages not to embarrass himself further by falling on the ground, or something else equally as ridiculous. Eponine seems as affected as him by Cosette’s beauty, although she’s probably more used to it, and so better at hiding her reactions. Still, Marius can see the way her cheeks get slightly pink, and then she’s smiling back, still a bit guarded but definitely happier.

“See?” she says. “I have been listening to you.”

“Good,” Cosette says, still grinning, and then she looks back at Marius. “Then welcome aboard the Plumet, Marius.”

“Thank you,” Marius answers, wishing desperately that his throat wasn’t so dry. He tries to smile, and feels terribly awkward when Cosette just looks at him for a few seconds, a curious glint in her eyes, before blinking and lowering them a little.

“Anyway,” Eponine says, brisk and sharp again. “Perhaps you could show him around while I’m going to shower, Cosette. We’re probably going to have to give him a lift somewhere.”

“That’d be great,” Marius says, naked relief in his voice, at the same time as Cosette says “Of course!” enthusiastically.

Eponine looks at the both of them with a light, tired frown for a second before nodding and finally moving forward. When she’s close to Cosette, however, she stops again. Marius can’t see her expression anymore, but he imagine it from the tension in her shoulders. Cosette seems confused for a second, and then, very, very slowly, Eponine raises her hand and puts it gently over Cosette’s cheek.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

Cosette’s own fingers come to settle above Eponine’s, and she turns slightly her head, her lips brushing against Eponine’s palm. Marius feels like he’s witnessing something incredibly intimate and lowers his head, his neck burning with embarrassment again.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he hears Cosette murmuring, and the painful honesty in her voice makes Marius glad he cannot see it reflected on her face.

 

*

 

Cosette leads Marius around the ship cheerfully, talking about every room (there aren’t a lot of them, the ship is _small,_ only containing the basic necessities) with a fondness that speaks of long history. When Marius asks, Cosette tells him that the ship has been her home since she was fourteen, and then promptly explains to him the reason why a huge part of the wall in the kitchen is painted in bright lavender, with a large purple butterfly on it. Marius, who’s been relaxing without even noticing it since he started to listen to her, ends up bursting into laughter at the end of the story, which seems to surprise and delight Cosette both. Marius doesn’t usually laugh so loudly and so he quickly puts his hand over his mouth to smother the sound, but Cosette just beams at him as if he’s just done something amazing, and Marius is glad one of the kitchen chairs is close enough that he can hold himself straight and not flail ridiculously in front of her.

“So what about you?” Cosette asks.

“Me?” Marius blinks, disconcerted. “There’s not… much to say about me.”

“We all have stories,” Cosette says, but doesn’t push for more and grins at him. “Do you want anything to eat or drink, by the way?”

Marius tries to remember the last time he had a drink - he’s pretty sure it was this morning, in the small room he had rented for the past week; the water had been a bit too warm and sweet for his taste, but when you had to make business in a town in the middle of a desert, you didn’t get to be picky about those kind of details. Now that Cosette has talked about it, however, he suddenly remembers his dry throat.

“Some water might be nice, please?” he says hesitantly.

It’s not that he doesn’t think Cosette’s offer was genuine - it’s hard, talking with her, to imagine her capable of anything dishonest, even something as small as this, but Marius has been walking through the ship with her and he couldn’t help but see the old plumbing, the fading colours on the walls, and the sparse furniture. Perhaps two years ago, Marius wouldn’t have paid attention at all. But now he’s actually aware of what it means to have so little that everything becomes infinitely precious, and he’s reluctant to deprive Cosette and Eponine of anything, especially something as important as water.

But Cosette’s smile doesn’t waver, and she immediately goes to a very old fridge that makes a loud rumbling noise. She takes a large bottle of water out, and then gets on her tiptoes to open a cupboard and reaches for a glass. Marius doesn’t dare ask if she needs help. Grantaire, who must be pretty much her size, always grumbles when people suggests he’s too small for some things and Courfeyrac, who’s barely taller, never hesitates to demand assistance when he truly needs it.

Cosette carefully fills the glass, and then offers it to him. Marius takes it and fails not to blush when their fingers brush against each other. For a second, he thinks Cosette’s cheeks get darker too, but he doesn’t dare stare too much and quickly put his lips to the glass instead. He swallows his first gulp of water and hums with pleasure, half-closing his eyes. He hasn’t had fresh water since he left Le Musain, and he’s _missed it._

“Thank you,” he says, realizing too late that he’s been rude and that Cosette is still looking at him with a little crease between her eyebrows.

“It’s nothing,” Cosette says, waving her hand and grinning again softly. “It’s rather good to have someone else around here. I lo - Eponine is great, Eponine is wonderful, but it’s only ever the two of us, so guests like you are very welcome.”

Marius tries to think about something clever or at least appropriate to answer to this, but his tongue doesn’t seem to work anymore, and so he just offers her a smile instead. Cosette doesn’t seem to expect more. She’s opening her mouth again when suddenly an old, holographic woman materializes right next to her, making Marius startle hard.

“Miss Cosette,” the woman says, turning slightly her head as if to look at Cosette properly. “Miss Eponine is on the bridge and wondering where you and Mister Marius are hanging out, miss.”

“Oh,” Cosette says, and this time Marius is sure he’s not imagining the way her cheeks gets darker. “Of course. Go tell her we’ll be there in a minute, Toussaint, please.”

“She’s moping, Miss Cosette, be quick.” Toussaint notes and then disappears as swiftly as she appeared.

“Let’s go, then!” Cosette says quickly, and Marius follows her back to the bridge she briefly shows him earlier, a bit confused

The bridge is small, but rather long. The windows are low, the light bright, and there are five control posts, but it’s clear that only two of them are regularly used. “Toussaint”, which Marius has guessed is the ship’s AI, is standing in the far left corner of the room, and gives a smile to Cosette and him when they enter. Marius is always fascinated by personalized ships’ AI, and looks more properly at her this time. She’s old, like the ship, and stands straight thanks to a cane. A few hair escape from her chignon, falling on her wrinkled forehead. She has the clothes of a nanny, and the air of someone curious and observant. She looks so real that Marius can almost forget the holographic blue of her image.

“Sorry,” says Cosette, interrupting Marius’ observations. “We were in the kitchen, Marius was thirsty.”

Marius turns his head back to the control posts in front of him and then pauses, bemused. Eponine is half-laying in her seat, but she doesn’t look at all like the Eponine he’s seen earlier. Her brown hair is loose and wet, falling all over her face unto her shoulders - her very naked and freckled shoulders, because she’s only wearing a small tank top, that shows off her… Marius blushes hard and looks at the ground firmly. This apparently new, terrible habit to stare at girls needs to be killed before it spreads to all the women he meets.

“Did you tell him the story of the butterfly?” Eponine asks, her voice _fond,_ seemingly unaware of Marius’ sudden dilemma.

“It’s a lovely story,” Cosette says joyfully.

“It is,” Eponine admits, and when Marius dares to look up in the silence that follows, the two girls are grinning at each other softly. Marius feels like an intruder again, and yet he’s oddly, shamefully glad to be able to see this. There’s clearly an history there that he’s not privy too, but he doesn’t need to know to realize that this is a lovely picture, and so he doesn’t speak up and keeps watching them until Eponine seems to remember that he’s here, glancing at him sideways.

“So, Marius,” she says, and Marius resolutely looks at her in the eyes, not missing the way her lips are still curled up. “Where should we drop you off?”

“I, um - I’m actually not sure,” Marius admits.

“Have you got somewhere to get back to at least?” Cosette immediately asks, sounding slightly worried.

“Oh, no, I do,” Marius hastily says. “My friends - they’ve got this ship - I was supposed to meet them a few hours ago but they’re - they don’t like staying in places too long, and when I missed my call, they must have been worried and changed course, so, um, I don’t know where they are now. I mean, if I could tell them where I am, I’m sure they’d come and get me, but -”

“Well, let’s put you in communication, then,” Eponine says, and when Marius blinks, surprised, she smirks, sharp and cutting. “We do have a functional visio-phone, I assure you.”

“I didn’t doubt it,” Marius says awkwardly. “Let me give you the number -”

As soon as Eponine has typed the numbers on the keyboard in front of her, a screen gets out of one of the control panel in between Cosette and her. It stays black for a short moment, and then “ _calling_ Les Amis” appears, as well as a little cat chasing a mouse in and out of the screen. It lasts for a whole minute until a large “CODE?” takes its place.

“Your line is encrypted?” Eponine asks, raising an eyebrow. “What sort of friends do you have?”

“Cautious ones,” Marius answers dutifully. “The code is, um - the code is _Pontmercying._ ”

Cosette and Eponine stare at him, and Marius can feel the heat rising up his neck again.

“You’re going to have to spell that for me,” Eponine says after a small silence.

“Sure,” Marius mutters and spells the invented word carefully for her as she types.

As soon as she’s validated the code, the screen becomes black again, but only for a few seconds.

“MARIUS!” Courfeyrac yells the moment they’re connected and his face appears. “Marius, oh my god, you’re alive!”

Marius hadn’t realized how much he missed Courfeyrac until he sees him again. He smiles helplessly at his friend, who’s beaming at him from the other side of the screen, his eyes just a tad too shiny, and suddenly wishes fiercely that he was already back on _Le Musain._ He’s still not always comfortable, in the midst of Les Amis, who are all so close of each other in a way that many people would probably find unhealthy, but all the awkwardness he might feel with the others does not apply to Courfeyrac, has never applied to Courfeyrac, and will probably never do. Courfeyrac was Marius’ first friend, and since Marius has difficulties with being a normal human being with normal social bonds, he will probably stay Marius’ favourite forever.

“I am,” he says, his throat tight with sudden emotion, still grinning hard. “I had a small problem, but I’m fine, now, I’ve been saved. Thanks to Eponine. I’m, um, I’m on her ship right now, hers and Cosette.”

“Hello,” Cosette says cheerfully, waving at the screen. “It’s nice to meet you, friend of Marius!”

“Hello!” Courfeyrac enthusiastically waves back. “I’m Courfeyrac, thank you for saving my favourite duckling.”

Marius’ face goes scarlet, and he suddenly almost regrets every nice thing he’s just thought about Courfeyrac as Cosette giggles and Eponine smirks, glancing at him with amusement.

“That’s her you need to thank,” Cosette says finally, pointing out Eponine, but Eponine just shrugs when Courfeyrac starts to open his mouth again.

“He saved my life first,” she says casually.

“He did?” Courfeyrac grins at Marius like a proud father. “We’ll make a true hero out of you yet, Pontmercy! Although,” he adds more seriously, “I’m not sure I’m ever letting you leave like this ever again. This has been far too stressful. Enjolras and Louison were planning behind my back to throw me off board if I kept pacing around waiting for news of your death.”

“Your faith in me is touching,” Marius says, trying and failing to hide a smile at his friend’s antics.

“You know I love you, my darling beautiful baby dragon, but _you didn’t meet us in time,_ ” Courfeyrac retorts, and behind his teasing smile Marius can hear the genuine worry, which makes him feel both warm and guilty.

“Did someone believe I could make it at least?” He asks lightly.

“Grantaire was rooting for you,” Courfeyrac says without missing a beat. “We’re all prepared for him to be insufferable about it for the next month or so. Enjolras has plans to hide in my bed.”

“Combeferre’s is more comfortable,“ Another voice says off-screen, and Courfeyrac is still looking betrayed when Enjolras appears at his side a few moments later.

“Hello, Marius,” he says with a small smile and a piercing gaze. “I’m glad to know you’re okay, we were all worried. And hello misses, thank you for taking our friend aboard.”

“It’s our pleasure, really,” Cosette says, grinning widely.

“He’s good company, yes,” Eponine approves. “But I’m sure you’d all like to be reunited as soon as possible.”

“Yes,” Enjolras agrees, in all seriousness, and while Marius knows that this is mostly because Enjolras wants to be able to talk with him in private about the mission in Second Earth, he’s still touched by the way he smiles pleasantly at him while Courfeyrac is beaming again next to him. “Where are you right now?”

“Still in orbit around Second Earth, but we’re going to have to move far away from there as soon as possible,” Eponine answers.

“We could come to you,” Cosette adds eagerly. “Our ship is a bit slow, but we can travel far.”

Enjolras looks thoughtful for a moment. Courfeyrac winks at Cosette and leans towards him, whispering something in his hair that makes Enjolras nods slightly.

“That could be a good idea,” he says. “Do you know the planet KO-35? It’s in the Astronema Galaxy.”

“Give me the coordinates,” Eponine demands.

Once Enjolras has obeyed, apparently not bothered by Eponine’s sharp tone, Eponine enters the coordinates and then looks with a frown at the map that appears on her computer before glancing at Cosette, who’s already quietly biting her lip and staring at her.

“It’s pretty far,” she says. “Cosette wasn’t kidding about the slow ship thing.”

“How slow are we talking?” Courfeyrac asks.

“A week, at least,” Eponine promptly says.

Courfeyrac looks up to Marius again, his face interrogative, and Marius shrugs, unsure of what to say. A week is a long time, and surely Les Amis would like him to be on board for a debrief as soon as possible. On the other hand, he remembers Cosette saying that _it was nice to have someone else around it,_ and the way it had felt so easy and relaxing to be with her earlier, as well as how comfortable it was, to be allowed to stay silent and just watch Eponine and her simply smiling at each other. Was it selfish of him to want more of this? Unwise, or reckless?

“We could come closer,” Enjolras declares slowly.

“You don’t need to,” Cosette says. “A week is nothing, really.”

“Yes. It’s nothing,” Eponine echoes, her eyes still fixed on Cosette.

“Marius?” asks Enjolras.

“If it doesn’t bother you, It’s okay with me,” Marius says hesitantly.

“Courfeyrac might mope,” Enjolras says with a small, amused smile.

“I shall stare out of the windows at outer-space and think of the days left until we are back together again, my precious star,” Courfeyrac sighs, letting his cheek rest against Enjolras’ shoulder.

Marius grins fondly: “I’ll miss you too, of course.”

“We’ll take good care of him,” Cosette promises, visibly charmed by Courfeyrac, which doesn’t surprise Marius at all.

“Then it’s settled,” Enjolras says quietly. “We’ll meet you on KO-35, in a week. Please let us know if anything comes up in between.”

“We will,” Eponine agrees.

When the screen goes black again, Cosette looks radiant, and Eponine seems distant.

Marius is quiet and simply stares at them, his heart beating just a bit too fast in his chest.

 

*

 

When Marius wakes up the next morning in the bedroom that Cosette and Eponine graciously let him take, he stays curled up on himself for a long while, looking at the pale grey walls, the anxiety swallowing him whole and making him incapable of moving. He’s wondering if he’s imposing, wondering if he’s made the right choice, wondering if he isn’t going to screw this up, like he did so many times before, every time he had to stay with new people. There’s a reason Marius couldn’t finish school, after all - there’s a reason that, despite Courfeyrac’s friendship, les Amis didn’t start calling him one of their own until an entire year had passed. He considers the possibility of hiding in the bedroom for the entire week, but then his stomach grumbles, bringing him back to reality, and although it takes him some time yet, he slowly gets up.

By the time he comes back in the room, several hours later, all of his doubts have faded away. Cosette, clearly, was genuine in her enthusiasm the day before, and she makes herself as welcoming and pleasant as possible, full of bright smiles and sweet stories that make Marius alternately laugh and swoon, sometimes both at the same time. Eponine follows her always, orbiting around her like a planet around its sun, finishing the stories for Cosette and starting some of her own that always end with a witty turn of phrase and Cosette’s grin. Marius realizes quickly enough, of course, that neither of them seem inclined to speak about their pasts; most of their anecdotes are about their adventures together, or other people. He doesn’t mind, really. He tends to keep his past silent too after all.

There are quieter moments, too. Eponine and Cosette have a well-ingrained routine and Marius does his best not to disturb them. They spend most of their time on the bridge, even though Toussaint is the one who makes the ship move after the girls put it on auto-pilot, but there’s also a sort of small common-room, with a very old couch, a large plant, a bookcase and a television screen for sole furniture, and this is where Eponine and Cosette retreat in the evening. Marius sits on the edge of the couch, next to Cosette, and they all watch a romantic comedy between a rich girl of Earth the Fitfh and a peasant of Earth the Fourth. Well, the girls do, probably - Marius spends most of the movie looking as discreetly as possible at their hands, whose fingers are brushing against each other.

If they moved just a little bit more, they could be intertwined, and Marius wonders why he’s almost disappointed that they’re not.

He falls asleep with his anxieties gone but his mind full of images, from the way Cosette looks at Eponine when she thinks the other girl is not looking, soft and full of wonder, to Eponine’s smile for Cosette, fond and honestly happy, to their hands that perpetually touch each other without quite entwining together.

It goes exactly the same way the next day, except that this time it’s Marius who talks a bit more about himself.

He doesn’t speak about his grandfather, nor the big house of Earth the Fifth on which he spent his whole childhood. He doesn’t speak of the big library, nor his cold aunt and his loud, perfect cousin. He wouldn’t even know what to say about law school, and so all of his stories start with meeting Bossuet and Courfeyrac on a fateful end of afternoon almost two years ago now, and everything that followed afterwards, although he’s careful to keep quiet about Les Amis’ activities.

That evening, after they’ve spent almost an hour in the kitchen, making and eating soup, all three of them retreats to the common room again. This time, Marius sits next to Eponine, who looks both surprised and pleased. They turn on the TV idly, and from time to time Eponine changes the channel, but mostly Cosette and her listen to Marius’ latest story (the day Courfeyrac and him ended up trapped in Enjolras and Grantaire’s bedroom), and the both of them are actually laughing at Marius’ awkwardly telling how Enjolras had reacted when he’d finally found them when he catches the end of the sentence of one of the character on TV.

“- miserable little brat, stop crying, do you think I want to hear you wailing like a girl?”

Marius glances at the screen despite himself. There is a man, well in his fifties, sermoning a young teenager, his large hand pulling the teenaged boy’s hair visibly hard enough to hurt him. Marius tenses, his words fading away as flashes of his grandfather comes back to him rather abruptly. He tries hard to concentrate again on Eponine and Cosette, conscious of how weird he must look right now, but his eyes are still attracted to that hand pulling and hurting, and he can hear the voice of the man, or maybe it’s the voice of his grandfather, shouting that he wished for more of him, more of a son, more of _everything -_

The TV makes a loud noise when it’s abruptly turned off. Marius blinks several times quickly, feeling completely unbalanced and then slowly looks back at Eponine and Cosettte, an apology on the tip of his tongue that never passes his lips when he realizes that he’s not the only one who’s apparently been shaken.

Cosette has lost her smile. She’s staring at the TV screen with a faraway look, her hands hidden underneath her legs. Eponine is pale, and maybe a bit angry. She’s shaking, Marius realizes with a jolt of surprise and worry, and looking at her lap, lips tightly pressed together.

“Um,” Marius says, a bit at lost by the sudden tension. “Are you -”

“It’s been a long day,” Eponine cuts him off abruptly, and stands up sharply. “Maybe we should all go to sleep already.”

Her voice seems to wake Cosette from wherever her mind was wandering, and she looks up to Eponine, something sad in her eyes, before nodding in approval.

“Yes,” she says. “We should.”

Eponine flees, there is no other way to describe it. Cosette watches her go with a troubled air, and Marius feels like he’s missing something big and therefore doesn’t quite know how to react when Cosette abruptly puts her head into her hands and breathes deeply, several times.

“Is - everything okay?” he asks her shyly when she stops.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Cosette immediately answers, the shadow of her usual sweet smile on her lips, and for the first time since he met her Marius has the feeling that she’s not telling the truth.

Still, he has no right to ask for more. He’s only a guest here, and two days is way too soon to reveal all your private feelings to a guest, except perhaps if your name is Courfeyrac. Marius bites his lip to stop himself from saying anything else, and Cosette gets up after a few seconds, fidgeting with the sleeve of the big jacket she’s always wearing.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly, sincerely. “Goodnight, Marius.”

“Goodnight, Cosette,” he answers a beat too late to her back.

By the time he feels like moving himself, the ship is completely quiet. He can’t help but glance at the door next to the one that leads to his bedroom when he passes in front of it. There are only two bedrooms in the ship, Cosette told him during their first visit, and since the one they offered to Marius is completely bare of any decoration, Marius assumes that it’s generally not used. He tries not to think about Cosette and Eponine sharing a bed, because this is definitely not the sort of thoughts one should have about his hosts, but right now he suddenly wonders how they are right now, sleeping side by side, touching but not really.

Of course, once in his bed, he feels embarrassed. He’s assuming, again, something about them. He’s been doing that a lot, in the past two days, assuming, creating a fiction about Eponine and Cosette, trying to find the connection between the looks and the smiles that hints a story, and the half-said words and non-quite touches that tell another one completely. Maybe they’re not even sharing a bed, he thinks, cheeks heating up. Maybe they have twin beds or bunk beds. Maybe there is nothing else there than Marius’ absurd longing to see more.

Still, it’s early, and sleep doesn’t come. Once he’s managed to stop thinking about Eponine and Cosette, his mind reverts back despite himself to the man and the teenage boy on the TV, and so to old memories of being eleven and banished to the garden with the interdiction to touch any more romance books as long as he lived under the roof of his grandfather. There had been so many moments like those, they’d became almost fuzzy in Marius’ mind. Had he been twelve, or maybe older, when he’d begged his grandfather to go see the Imperial Space Army’s Museum and instead had simply managed to get punished for a week, with his private instructor required to hit his hands with his thin ruler every time Marius mentioned anything concerning space?

How young had he been, that time he had broken his wrist by falling of the old treehouse, and his grandfather had spent the whole journey to the hospital petting his hair and telling him to stop crying like a baby, because clearly Marius had been a little fool, trying to go in that old treehouse while knowing how physically weak he was, and that at least now he would know better than to do something so idiotic next time and stop trying to kill his grandfather so early with his stupidities?

So many words that Marius had tried to bury under the pile of old letters that he’d found out the week before deciding to leave the house for good. But as much as he loved thinking of his father tenderly asking about him, reminding himself of the terms of endearment and the clear longing in each one of them, they never could quite erase nineteen years of listening to his grandfather telling him about all the way he was failing, time and time again, to be good.

Marius is wondering, a bit desperate, if he should get up again and try to go read a book to distract himself from those pervasive thoughts when he’s suddenly startled by a scream, and the noise of a door being quickly opened and closed, more harshly than necessary. He sits up immediately, worried, and listens.

He cannot hear much except muffled sounds that might be sobbing, and he gets out of bed quickly, stumbling outside the bedroom with no clear plan in mind apart from being sure that Eponine and Cosette are okay.

He finds Eponine right there in the corridor, leaning against the wall, her hands curled into fists, looking tired and angry and almost in _pain._ He moves forwards and then stops, unsure on what to say.

“What are you looking at?” Eponine asks in a harsh whisper, turning suddenly towards him.

“I - nothing - are - I thought I heard sobbing,” Marius stammers. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Eponine says, and then looks at the ceiling, a terrible rictus on her lips. “Of course I am. I’m always fine. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know,” Marius says hesitantly, even though he’s pretty sure it was supposed to be rhetorical question. “But you don’t seem -” he doesn’t end his sentence, because Eponine closes her eyes with a small wince. “Can I do anything to help?” he asks instead.

“It’s nothing, Marius,” she sighs, sounding frustrated. “Cosette just had a nightmare. Go back to sleep, seriously, forget this.”

Marius glances at the door in between them, and frowns.

“Is _she_ okay?“ he can’t help but asks, because if Eponine isn’t sobbing, it means that maybe Cosette is, and the thought is pretty much as terrible.

“What do you think?” Eponine says sharply, angry again. “Of course she’s not!”

“Then why aren’t you -” he starts, confused, and then takes a step back when Eponine abruptly move forwards, snarling: “ _This is not of your business!_ ”

In the two days he spent with her, Marius had almost forgotten the feral and dangerous girl he’d met on the Patron-Minette’s ship. Eponine has been softer so far, and despite the bruise on her jaw that served as a reminder of their first meeting, he’s grown used to her gentle sarcasms and her quick, small amused smiles. Now, however, she looks like she could break Marius’ neck all over again, her eyes full of cold fire and her lips pursed into a furious grimace, and Marius can’t decide if he’s terrified or if he wants to smooth the enraged lines on her face with a caress.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly instead, standing still. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have pried.”

His apology seems to unbalanced Eponine, who looked ready for a fight. Her face turns blank again, and the fire leaves her eyes, replaced by a wary and thoughtful glint.

“I wish I could be with her, but I’m not what she needs right now,” she finally admits, sounding like the words are burning her throat.

“What does she need, then?” he asks carefully.

“I don’t know,” Eponine shrugs, ducking her head a little, a hint of helplessness and bitterness in her voice. “Anyone but me, probably.” There’s a beat of silence, and then she frowns at Marius and whispers, almost as an afterthought: “You, perhaps.”

“Me?” he repeats, surprised by the sudden turnaround.

“She doesn’t like being alone,” Eponine mutters, and passes a hand through her hair before sighing again and looking at him with a resigned look. “Maybe you should go in there and make sure she’s okay.”

“But,” Marius starts, and hesitates a second before persevering: “But she doesn’t know me very well. Surely she’d be more comfortable with you -”

“Get in there,” Eponine snaps. “I told you, I’m the last person she needs right now. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She starts to walk before Marius can react, and she’s almost disappeared in the kitchen when Marius calls to her, slightly panicked. She doesn’t look back, though, and soon Marius is standing alone in front of the bedroom’s door, and he’s torn between following Eponine’s order and going in to see Cosette, or simply _following Eponine._ In the end, he decides that Eponine probably left because she didn’t want to talk anymore, and he wets his lips and raises his hand to the door.

“Cosette?” he asks gently at the same time he knocks.

When he doesn’t get an answer, he tentatively opens the door. The room is dark, of course, but there’s a weak blue light that means that Marius has no trouble spotting Cosette, who’s curled up on the side of a large bed, clutching at a pillow and sobbing quietly, her cheek pressed against it. She tenses when she hears the door, and looks up almost fearfully, seeming confused when she sees Marius.

“Um,” Marius says, awkward. “Eponine said you had a nightmare and I - wanted to make sure - do you need anything?”

Cosette blinks, and looks behind Marius’ shoulder.

“Where is Eponine?” she asks in a soft, odd voice.

“I don’t know,” he answers. “She left - do you want me to go fetch her for you? Because I can-”

“No!” Cosette says hastily, and then, she burst into tears again, and hides her face in a pillow. Marius stares, horrified.

“I’m sorry,” he says, unsure of what he did wrong. “I’m just - I’m just going to -”

He doesn’t end his sentence. He suddenly realizes that it’s familiar, somehow, the way Cosette is embracing the pillow, almost curling up around it. She’s seeking contact, she’s seeking _comfort,_ and Marius remembers the first time onboard of Le Musain where he had a panic attack, how awfuland lonely he had felt, and the way Courfeyrac had come back and quietly opened his arms and let Marius shake against his chest in silence, caressing his hair gently.

“Would you - Would you like a hug?” he asks impulsively before he can talk himself out of it.

There’s a small silence, and Marius almost apologizes when Cosette looks up shyly again.

“Yes, please,” she whispers.

Marius moves quietly to the bed and sits a bit awkwardly on it. Cosette hesitates for a second, staring at him like she’s afraid he’s going to move away if she gets closer, and so he slowly opens his arms, like Courfeyrac does so easily every time Marius feels bad, and Cosette lets go of the pillow and reduce the distance between them, her small fingers clinging to Marius’ shirt as she snuggles closer and he embraces her.

It’s not long until she’s crying again against him. He can feel her shaking, and because he has no idea what to say, he starts to caress her hair instead. His eyes are wide open and it feels so intimate, so fragile - it never been like this with Courfeyrac, and he isn’t sure why his heart is hurting as he listens to her sobbing, but he wishes he had a magical way to make it stop. He murmurs:

“Do you want to talk about it?”

And he feels Cosette shaking her head, even as she whispers, like she’s confessing a murder:

“I want to be close to her all the time, but I wish I had never met her again.”

Marius has no idea what it means, but he loathes to try to assume now. When Cosette doesn’t say more, he hugs her just a bit more tightly, and says:

“It’s okay to feel this way, sometimes.”

They stay silent, after that. Marius doesn’t know exactly when Cosette’s sobs turn into sleepy noises, and he couldn’t really say how they end up lying together in the bed instead of sitting, but they’re still cuddling and eventually the exhaustion catches up with him, and his last memory before he falls asleep is the sound of the door closing again properly.

 

*

When he wakes up hours later, Marius, for a few minutes, feels incredibly well.

He’s aware of the body pressed against him, small and a bit too warm, of the hair in his mouth that he should probably try to get out, and that one of his arm is completely dead, but he feels relaxed and impossibly content the way you only can after a good night of sleep. He has half a mind to stay like this forever when he feels the person next to him starting to move, and he suddenly remembers the events of last night, the curious behaviour of Eponine, the mysterious words and nightmare of Cosette, and then the cuddling.

He blushes hard and tries to move away, but Cosette moves along with him with a soft humming noise, burying her nose a bit more into his shirt. Marius looks at her, and his heart skips a bit. He’s always thought that there was nothing particularly beautiful about someone sleeping, no matter what the writers and movie-makers tended to want to make him believe, but it feels like every single one of his firm opinions is easily changed by everything Cosette does. Cosette, who is so beautiful when she smiles and when she talks, is as beautiful now when she only breathes deeply, her nose slightly wrinkled, her mouth half-parted.

 _I want to wake up like this forever,_ Marius thinks absurdly, almost considering raising his hand and push one of her curls out of her face to make her more comfortable. Of course, his second thought, much more rational, is: _This is going to be so awkward when she wakes up._

He’s right, obviously.

Cosette wakes up, eventually, and it _is_ awkward. She’s blushing a lot once she’s up, and Marius knows he’s not much better. They don’t quite know what to say once she’s apologized and he answered she didn’t have anything to apologize for, and eventually Marius leaves the room and goes back to his own, searching through the clothes that Eponine and Cosette provided to him the first night for something that might not be too big on him (they gave him men clothes, or maybe the clothes of a giant, he’s not sure. What he knows is that Cosette’s jacket is definitely part of this stack of clothes, because they’re the same size. Marius still wonders to whom they belong).

When he feels brave enough to face the girls again, he goes to the bridge, and only finds Cosette there. She’s talking in a low voice with Toussaint, who looks rather exasperated and disappears with a huff when she catches sight of Marius. Cosette turns her head and smiles to him - it’s still awkward, but it’s genuine, and Marius smiles back shyly and joins her, not daring to ask what annoyed Toussaint, or where is Eponine.

Eponine doesn’t appear, and after a while the conversation flows easily again between Marius and Cosette. They eat together while talking about the poems of Kendrix, which were the first poems Marius’ nanny taught him, and apparently Cosette’s favourite, and perhaps things would be even better if some part of his mind wasn’t wondering about Eponine, and why she said she was the last person Cosette would want to see the night before. He wants to ask Cosette about it, but it would probably be unwelcome, not only because Marius has no right to barge into their private lives like this and demand answers, but also because Cosette has been careful not to mention Eponine even once since they met again on the bridge.

Some part of his distraction and worry for Eponine must show on his face, because by the time they’ve finished their meal, Cosette’ smile has dimmed a little, and she’s quieter, looking a bit sad.

“She’s good at disappearing after nights like those,” she says, busying her hands with hers and Marius’ plates and staring at her task resolutely. “The ship is so small, but when she doesn’t want to be found, then you can search all your want, you won’t find her.”

Marius silently takes the plates when she’s finished washing them to dry them, and glances at her hesitantly.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” he asks eventually.

“It’s only ever the two of us, Marius,” Cosette declares quietly, her eyes fixed on the ground still. “Sometimes it’s just - It’s okay, it’s needed, to have some time alone.”

 _But there’s more,_ wants to push Marius. _There’s clearly more here, because Eponine said you didn’t like to be alone yesterday._

“Alright,” he says instead.

He doesn’t know what makes him so curious about Eponine and Cosette. On Le Musain, he never felt the need to have thestories behind some actions and words. He’s always been a bit baffled by Joly and Bossuet’s amazing abilities to gossip about their friends for hours, elaborating more and more curious explanations as to why Feuilly got out of Bahorel’s room that morning with Jehan, even though Bahorel was on a planet with his girlfriend Marguerite, or spying discreetly on Enjolras and Combeferre after Grantaire had suddenly decided that he wanted to shoot as many targets as possible and refused cuddles. Of course, it might have been because Marius spent most of his time hiding from les Amis, or being intimidated by them.

He definitely doesn't feel that way about Eponine and Cosette. He just wants to _know them._

“Do you want to see something beautiful?” Cosette asks lightly, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“I am,” he blurts out, and when Cosette looks up to him he realizes what he’s just said and blushes hard. “I mean, I do. Yes.”

“Okay,” Cosette smiles, visibly more amused than perplexed, and she takes his hand in her own to lead him out of the kitchen.

It’s something he’s noticed, too, in the few hours they’ve been together - she’s touching him freely now, the way she didn’t before. He likes it, perhaps more than he should, the way her little fingers fits with his, the contrast of their skin together, the warmth of their palms press against each other. It’s easy to follow her through the corridors like this, concentrating on this single point of contact and staring a bit helplessly at the way her curls bounce on her shoulders as she tells him about a room he hasn’t seen yet, but which is Cosette’s absolute favourite.

He takes care not to blush when she stops in front of her bedroom again and ushers him inside. Clearly this isn’t their final destination, since Marius has already been there, but Cosette walks until she’s standing in front of the right wall of the room. There’s a panel of photos hanging on it, but Marius doesn’t have time to study them all; his eyes are caught by a photo of Eponine doing her Cosette smile, and another of a little girl, that surely must be Cosette, proudly showing off a doll, and then Cosette’s arm is blocking his view as she opens a tiny glass window and types a few numbers on the electronic tablet behind it. As soon as she’s done it, she makes Marius takes a step back, and Marius stares, amazed, as the handle of a door appears with a buzzing sound.

“Come on,” Cosette says with a smile, and she opens the door, pulling Marius inside. “Welcome to my garden!” she declares happily.

This isn’t like any garden Marius has ever been into, but he can see why Cosette thinks it’s beautiful. Myriads of flowers and large plants are planted in large jars of glass, shining under a soft and warm light. It almost feels like there is a breeze inside, the flowers swaying from side to side, and the rainbow of colours in front of Marius suddenly reminds him of being five and discovering for the first time the only patch of the garden that wasn’t carefully kept _proper._

He moves slowly around, fascinated. It’s not a big room, or maybe it is but some flowers are so large that they take a good part of the space. He stops in front of big, purple ones, and carefully touches a petal. The flower seems to shiver under his fingers, and he grins.

“This is wonderful,” he says honestly, turning to Cosette again.

“Thank you,” Cosette says, looking pleased. “I grew all of them myself, you know. I’ve always loved flowers.”

“Me too,” Marius admits softly.

They smile at each other, and then Cosette goes to sit on the single rock bench at the very end of the long room. Marius hesitates a second, and then comes to sit next to her, delighted to realize that the bench was carefully positioned so that all the flowers are visible from here.

“It used to be only my father and I,” Cosette confesses softly after a while.

Marius glances at her. She’s looking wistfully in front of her, her smile gone again.

“We lived on this colony with religious women until I was fourteen,” she continues when he doesn’t speak. “My uncle - I think he was my uncle, I’m not sure now - My uncle was a gardener there, and botany was one of my father’s passions. Me, I only loved the colours. And then my uncle died, and my father said we should go exploring the stars. He bought Le Plumet, and he told me that I could do whatever I wanted with this particular room. I missed the flowers, so I decided to make a garden.”

“You can be proud of it,” Marius says, not sure if he’s expected to actually comment.

Cosette’s lips curl up slightly.

“I am,” she says. “It’s the one place that still has some memories of my father in it. He helped me plant most of them, see.”

“Is he - did he -” Marius hesitates.

“He’s not dead,” Cosette answers his unasked question. “At least,” she adds, her tone quieter, “I don’t think he is. Almost two years ago, I woke up one day and I was alone on the ship. I wasn’t worried at first, because my father liked to leave a couple of days, every few months or so. But then I received a long letter from him. It said he couldn’t go back to the ship, that he was in danger, that he loved me, and that I shouldn’t try to look for him. And then, nothing.”

“But you are looking for him,” Marius gathers, and Cosette laughs a little.

“Yes, of course I am,” she says. “He saved me, a long time ago, from the family my mother have left me with. It’s only right that I save him now, even though - even though on the way I learnt that he’s hidden so much. He wasn’t my real father, as it turns out. But he raised me like it, and I love him too much to give up on him.”

Because Marius still doesn’t know what to say, he stays silent for a while, and simply offers his hand again at Cosette, who takes it, squeezing gently. They stare at the flowers for a while just like this, hand in hand, and it’s strangely peaceful. The story of Cosette makes him think of his own. He reminds himself of the single picture of his father he has, the image he pushed forcibly in his head until it erased the memory of seeing this unknown man on a poor hospital bed, white and _dead_ , and being incapable of mourning him. The picture is a nice one; his father is smiling, tall and proud in his uniform of the Space Army. His eyes are full of love, which is how Marius knows that the person taking the picture was his mother.

“I never knew my father,” he admits to Cosette softly, impulsively. “My grandfather raised me, and told me for years that my father was a coward who had run away when he’d learnt that my mother was pregnant. I only learnt that it wasn’t the truth a while ago, and by that time it was too late. My grandfather forbid him to raise me after my mother’s death, _that’s_ the truth. My father loved me, he never forgot about me, but the first time I saw him as an adult, he was dead.”

It’s painful, to talk about this. His chest is heavy with regrets and anger still, even after more than two years. But now that he started, he can’t stop.

“All those years,” he says, “my grandfather told me that I was never enough. He didn’t even love me. He treated me like I was a pretty object of decoration to show off to his friends at best, and like a nuisance at worst. He was careless, and unjust, and he only decided to take me in to punish my father for having fallen in love with my mother.”

Cosette’s thumb caresses his skin gently. Marius takes a deep breath, realizing belatedly that he’s shaking.

“I hate him,” he whispers. “I hate him so much.”

“I understand,” Cosette says. Her hand tightens around Marius’. “The family that my father saved me from, I spend most of my early childhood with them. They treated me like - like I was even lesser than a dog, told me that my mother had abandoned me and didn’t care for me, otherwise she’d send money to feed me. I was always working, always tired, and I was such a hateful little girl. I wanted all of them dead.”

“You had the right to,” Marius says, his chest burning with emotions. “I’m sorry you had to live through that.”

“I’m sorry too,” Cosette says, and then she carefully puts her head on Marius’ shoulder.

Marius suddenly feels exhausted, but he doesn’t move, cherishing the warmth of Cosette against him, the slight tickling of her curls on his neck, the gentle motion of her thumb that hasn’t stopped yet. His eyes fall on a smaller jar, in which a myriad of small reddish flowers are embracing each other. It makes him almost smile, and then Cosette speaks again, her voice so low that Marius would have probably not heard it if they hadn’t been so close.

“Eponine was part of the family,” she says. “Their precious little girl.”

Marius freezes.

 _oh,_ he thinks. _this is the rest of th_ e _story._

 

*

 

Later, when Cosette says they should probably go back to the bridge, Marius tells her that he needs to use the bathroom, cheeks red, and leaves her to find Eponine.

He tells himself this isn’t what he’s doing, but he still goes through every room and every door, not that there are a lot of them, and looks particularly closely to be sure that there isn’t any other hidden places like Cosette’s garden, of course without being sure that he isn’t going to miss them anyway. In the end, he isn’t that surprised when it’s not him that finds Eponine, but the reverse. She shows up when he’s looking into the tiny gym room, and gives him a scare by talking before he even realized that she’d entered;

“Looking for a way to learn how to fight?” she asks.

Marius jumps hard and gives her her look full of reproach when she grins slightly, clearly amused by her effect.

“I was looking for you, actually,” he says lightly after his heart starts to beat normally again. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

“You were with Cosette,” Eponine says, her tone more guarded.

“You’re usually with Cosette too,” Marius points out.

Eponine purses her lips, crossing her arms defensively on her chest.

“You need to stop acting like you know everything about us because Cosette has taking a shine on you and you’ve been on board for three days,” she spits out with a frown. “Contrarily to what you may think, I have other stuff to do than to share funny stories with you _or_ Cosette all day. I’ve been busy. I still am, really. I’ll see you later, Marius.”

“She told me,” Marius blurts out, and gets slightly hopeful when Eponine freezes, and looks back at him, face blank. “She told me about you two, when she was a child -” he adds.

“I’m fairly sure she didn’t,” Eponine says, her voice suddenly void of any emotions.

“But she did -”

“No,” Eponine insists, harder. “No she probably didn’t, Marius. What did she say? That she was miserable? That she was abused, while I was the wonderful daughter, cherished by her parents, adored by her little sister, given everything I wanted? Did she tell you that I was her abuser too? Did she tell you about all the time I pushed her in the snow when she had no clothes to protect her, all the time I was cruel because I thought it was _funny,_ all the time I spied on her and waited for her to make a mistake before telling my mother? I sincerely doubt she said _that,_ Marius.”

Marius stares at her, feeling terribly cold.

“You were just -” he starts, his voice weak.

“A little girl?” Eponine finishes for him bitterly, and when Marius hesitantly nods, she shakes her head and laughs. It’s low and sharp and full of hurt, and Marius takes a step forwards, the need to reach out even stronger than the knowledge that it would be rejected. “Oh god, you’re both the same, aren’t you? Yes, I was a little girl, but what does it change? I did those things. It doesn’t matter that I was thoroughly punished by my own cruelty as a child by learning what it means to be poor and being treated like you’re nothing by your parents later. It doesn’t matter that I lost everything after Cosette left to have a new, shiny life with her dad. _I did those things._ I was that kid. I’m part of the reason Cosette still has nightmares. I can’t comfort her, because _I’m the bad guy_ in her eyes when she wakes up during those nights.”

“But you’re not,” Marius blurts out, and maybe it’s not the right thing to say, but he knows that Eponine won’t let him hug her, and he wants so much to make it better, even a little. “Not the rest of the time, at least, you’re not the bad guy.”

“I should be,” Eponine says, her voice hoarse even though she didn’t scream.

Marius shakes his head decisively.

“You’ve changed, clearly,” he says.

“I really haven’t,” Eponine retorts. “Not enough. I’m not a good person, Marius, I don’t know what you’ve been believing but -”

“I believe that Cosette likes you,” Marius interrupts her bravely. “I’m not blind, I’ve seen how she looks at you. If you hadn’t changed, if you were still that little girl, then she wouldn’t have let you live with her on this ship, and she certainly wouldn’t be in love with you.”

Eponine freezes completely again. Marius frowns, a bit uncertain of what he’s said wrong. When she doesn’t speak up though, he takes another step towards her, the urge to touch her for comfort so strong that it fills his lungs with courage.

“You’re in love with her too,” he continues slowly. “It’s - it’s kind of beautiful, how much in love you both are with each other. It’s a nice thing to have.” He wets his lips and moves closer again, slowly, so slowly, keeping his gaze on Eponine, who watches him like she’s forgotten how to speak or to breath. Her eyes are a bit too shiny, and her cheeks slightly pink, and Marius thinks he probably wouldn’t be able to look away even if he wanted to. “You deserve nice things,” he admits in a whisper, and tentatively let his fingers brush against her wrist.

Eponine startles and moves her hand away abruptly, like she hadn’t realized what Marius wanted to do before. Marius immediately feels guilty, snapping out of a trance he hadn’t realized he was in, and blushes hard, taking a step back.

“You need to stop assuming you know anything,” Eponine tells him again, but she doesn’t sound angry or frustrated or even mocking, just a bit distant. For a brief moment, he thinks that she’s going to say something else, but then she frowns and turns away from him for good, and disappears once more.

Marius doesn’t try to follow her. He’s probably pushed too much already, and he still feels bad about it. Instead, he sits on a stool and put his forehead against the wall, wishing hard he knew what to make of all the emotions going through his body in permanence since he put a foot on the Plumet. It’s almost like his world has suddenly narrowed down to Eponine and Cosette, it’s almost like a romance novel, the ones his grandfather had forbidden him to read and Courfeyrac, Grantaire and Bossuet had been way too gleeful to lend him, because his stomach is twisting when they laugh, and his heart is beating fast in his chest just to think about them, and maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t mind knowing what it feels like to press his lips against theirs.

Mostly, though, he wants them to be happy, _together,_ and he’s not certain that this is a romance thing. If only he could talk to someone, he thinks, staring at the mat at the floor without quite seeing it. As hard as he tried, he cannot think of any advice that his friends have given him on love. _Love,_ he repeats to himself, his lips forming the word like it’s a sin. Love! What does Marius even know of love? It’s not love, it can’t be love, that makes his chest tight and warm in turn each time he speaks to one of the girls. He’s known them for barely three days. It’s nothing. He’s being ridiculous.

Still.

_Love._

Marius gets up abruptly, in a bit of a daze, and tries to stop thinking even as he starts to walk again in the direction of the bridge. It’s too late, however - now the word is out, and he doesn’t seem able to make it go away. He’s always thought love to be a bit foolish, severe in his judgement perhaps because his grandfather had sang about it on every roof while kissing Marius’ nanny, and one of his aunt’s friends, and then a _Dame,_ all of them in the same evening. Even after meeting les Amis, his opinion hadn’t been changed much - there was too much pain sometimes in the way Enjolras and Grantaire looked at each other, and perhaps too much silliness in Joly and Bossuet’s relationship and way, way too much confusion about Bahorel and his girlfriend and Jehan and Feuilly.

And yet he had spent the last three days watching carefully Eponine and Cosette, and finding beautiful everything they did together, smiling and eating and sharing stories. He’d liked every movement, every sound, every word they’d made, and he can’t explain it properly, because he’s read about it, but he’d never _felt it._

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he barely realizes he arrived on the bridge, and almost thinks he’s dreaming when his eyes fall on the scene in front of him. Eponine and Cosette are there, but they don’t see him at all, too busy looking at each other. They’re sitting close to each other, their knees pressed together, and Cosette is grinning softly, playing with Eponine’s hands, while Eponine whispers to her something, her face half-hidden by Cosette’s curls. Marius stares, imagines despite himself what is Eponine saying when Cosette’s eyes suddenly flutter and her cheeks get darker, and then flushes with shame, and decides to turn around once more.

He goes to his room, because this is the only place his feet can lead him to instinctively, and once inside, he leans against the wall, breathing deeply. He’s happy, he realizes when he can think about something that isn’t Cosette and Eponine being so close again. There is something right about them being together, really, and Marius is glad, proud even, that Eponine decided to go talk to Cosette.

But he feels a bit faint, too, perhaps because it’s too easy to see what could happen now. He forces himself to shake the ideas off, and then wonders what he could do. It’s probably late enough that it wouldn’t feel weird to go to bed, and the day has certainly been exhausting, at least emotionally speaking, Marius doesn’t feel sleepy, though, but rather buzzing with nervous energy and unsure about how he could get rid of it (he knows, his treacherous mind says, but Marius is a master in the art of denial, and doesn’t listen to it). He misses Courfeyrac suddenly more than anything. Marius has never had a problem that Courfeyrac couldn’t solve yet, if not with a proper solution, at least with cuddles.

In the end, he resigns himself to the bed, gets into the large pajamas, and then crawls under the blankets, not bothering to turn off the light and simply staring at the ceiling instead.

He tries to remember the old song that his nanny used to sing him to him, when he was very small. It was one of the poems of Kendrix, he’s almost sure of it, one of the long ones, who talked about the First Generations and their thirst of new worlds. The melody escapes him, but he still has a few words, maybe the chorus -

_And so we ran to the stars, not for greed, and not for treasures,_

_But for love._

_Oh love guided our first steps, knowing the stars awaited,_

_And so we started to shine, because everything shine when love is pur_ e.

Marius is searching for more when he hears a giggle outside of his room. It’s easy to recognize Cosette, even if the sound is muffled, and he swallows hard, instinctively raising his blanket higher. He doesn’t exactly mean to listen for more noises, but that’s what he ends up doing anyway, and he’s relieved for only a second when Eponine and Cosette’s door opens and closes quickly - the walls, Marius discovers with a mix of horror and fascination, are even thinner than he thought after yesterday.

“Cosette,” Eponine says with a breathy moan, and Marius can see her, pressed against the bed, embracing Cosette while Cosette’s lips explore as much skin as they can. He imagines her face, the way she would half-close her eyes and try to stay as straight as she can, pretending that she isn’t as affected as she sounds, while Cosette’s little hands pull on her top, enthusiastic.

There’s another noise, maybe a moan or a sigh, and then a moment of silence that leaves Marius wondering how they’d kiss each other; Eponine would be slow, but precise, full of intent, perhaps. Cosette would make things sweet, and fun. Maybe she would bite Eponine’s lip, just a little, not enough to hurt, just to tease, and Eponine would grab her hips and brings her closer, searching for more.

“I want -” he hears Cosette says.

“Here,” Eponine replies and then, again, almost a whine this time, “ _Cosette.”_

“Patience,” Cosette giggles, and Eponine’s next moan is so loud that Marius feels like he’s in the room with them.

Damn it all, he _wants_ to be in the room with them. He wouldn’t even do anything, if they didn’t want him to. He would just ask to be allowed to watch as they finally touch each other everywhere, their naked bodies pressed so close to each other as Cosette would put her arms around Eponine’s neck and kiss her with all she has while Eponine’s fingers move slowly towards Cosette’s inner thigh --

Marius realizes that he’s hard only when his own hand is already half ready to wrap itself around his cock. He coughs with embarrassment and hastily curl his fingers in a fist instead, incapable of deciding what to do. Marius is almost aching with need, heat rising up in his neck, and this is wrong, this is so wrong, but Eponine is loud, and breathes out Cosette’s name like a prayer from time to time, and he wishes….

“Fuck, _Cosette, please,_ ” Eponine almost yells.

Marius gets up, incapable of hearing more. He runs to the little adjacent bathroom awkwardly, takes off his clothes hastily, and turns on the shower abruptly with the coldest water he can. It hits hard and leaves him almost paralyzed with intense shivering, but when he gets out and searches for a towel, his erection he’s gone.

He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror in front of the sink afterwards, and that’s when the end of the poem abruptly comes back to him, which makes him almost laugh because it’s seems so _absurd,_ that his brain was still thinking about that song even now, and yet, it’s so fitting, in a way …

_Was it love for the stars or my love for you that made me so quick on my feet?_

_I would fly forever for you, because you are love,_

_And we are shining, shining together, like all our ancestors did,_

_So long, so long ago._

*

 

It’s surprisingly easy to go back to the little routine that they’d created at the very beginning after that strange day and so very awkward evening.

Marius keeps waiting for something to be weird, but it’s not, really - at all. They spend the next few days exactly as they had before, talking and talking and never getting bored, and Marius’ heart keeps skipping a beat every time the girls smile at him, or, worse, smile at each other. When Toussaint announces that they should arrive on KO-35 in no more than a day, it feels a bit like a beautiful dream being torn apart abruptly by a particularly disagreeable clock.

It’s not that he isn’t happy at the idea of seeing Courfeyrac again and - well, the others too, at least some of them, particularly Bossuet and Grantaire. He knows that he has responsibilities towards Les Amis, and he understands that it means coming back to them with everything he found on Earth the Second. The problem is that compared to Le Musain, the Plumet almost feels like a sanctuary, rather than a ship that never quite was home. It suits Marius, really, not to have a lot of people on board, especially as the ones who are there means _so much_ to him already _._

Cosette doesn’t seem as enthusiastic as he expected her to be either. She seems to become a bit more subdued a bit as they get closer and closer to the planet, and when they get on orbit, she seeks Eponine’s hand and doesn’t let go of it, oddly silent. Eponine, in turn, starts to frown again. Marius wishes he could come in between them and make them smile again, maybe forever. Instead, he decides to call Le Musain to tell them they’re ready to land whenever is okay for them.

“Marius!” Grantaire grins brightly at him when the visio-communication is established. His hair is in disarray and he has forgotten again to shave, which he will probably regret sooner or later. Marius can’t help but grin back. Grantaire has always been a weird but constant support among les Amis, even at the beginning.

“Hi Grantaire,” he says. “We’re ready to land if you are.”

“You sweet innocent child, we’ve already landed an hour ago,” Grantaire says, rolling his eyes. “We’re at the edge of the forest, east-side, near the biggest tower of the land or something. You can’t miss us.”

“Coordinates would be nice all the same,” Eponine says, clearly unimpressed.

Grantaire blinks at her.

“Sure,” he says, and gives her the numbers before looking at Marius again and raising an eyebrow in a clear silent message that Marius doesn’t get at all.

“So, why are you already on ground?” he asks instead of answering with something wrong.

“Can’t you guess?” Grantaire immediately answers with a dramatic sigh. “The triumvirate learnt that the Counsel of KO-35 might decide to accept among them a woman who apparently used to want to rule the universe, or something like that. They weren’t that happy, so they decided that it was as good an occasion as any to go check on her - she apparently arrived yesterday, she doesn’t even live there. I was told to wait for your call because apparently, I lack diplomacy which, if you tell me, is just a shitty excuse - Bahorel has no diplomacy whatsoever, and he’s definitely with them right now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Marius says, trying to sound as sincere as possible. “You can join them now if you want. We’ll be there in less than twenty minutes.”

“Perfect,” Grantaire says, and then he adds: “I’m glad you’re alive, Marius - Don’t know if you’ve been told, but I was rooting for you from the beginning.”

He winks before the screen goes black again, and Marius can’t help but smile. As much as he doesn’t want to leave Eponine and Cosette, it feels good to know he’s going to see his friends again properly in a few moments.

Since apparently the ship can’t land by itself even with Toussaint, the last minutes that Marius spends on the Plumet are on the bridge, which seems rather fitting. Cosette asks for the names of all of his friends, and Marius indulges her easily, telling her little ways to recognize everybody - she’s seen Enjolras already, of course (“oh yes,” she says, grinning, “the pretty one with the absolutely gorgeous hair”), and Courfeyrac and Grantaire. He tells her about Combeferre, tall and imposing and wearing glasses, Bossuet and Joly, usually stuck at the hip and grinning, Bossuet with his robotic arm and Joly with his robotic leg, Bahorel, who wears bright colours that always match and Jehan, who wears shiny clothes that never do, and finally Feuilly, polite and discreet Feuilly with his face full of freckles and his nice smile.

“They seem nice,” Cosette says when he’s done.

“They are,” Marius agrees, because he’s aware that just because he had a rocky start with them doesn’t mean that they necessarily were the ones in the wrong.

“Cosette, I’m going to need you, we’re landing,” says Eponine. “Toussaint, please stabilize the ship.”

Marius sits back in one of the seats and holds on to the armchairs during the landing. Eponine and Cosette are good, which doesn’t surprise him at all, and it all goes perfectly smoothly. When it’s done, Marius listens to the engines slowly quieting down, and then looks at Eponine and Cosette, who are staring at him too.

“Well,” he says, feeling awkward all over again, emotion making his throat tight. “Thank you. For taking me here. It was really great of you and - um, thank you. For everything.”

“We’re not leaving yet,” Cosette immediately says, looking stricken.

“I know,” Marius says, blushing a little. “But I wanted to say this before we’re outside because afterwards there’ll be my friends, and um, it won’t be just us anymore and I just, um, - liked it. Like it. The three of us.”

“Oh, Marius,” Cosette says, sounding heartbroken, and then she gets up from her chair and flings herself at Marius, hugging him fiercely. Marius embraces her as tightly, eyes wide open, mesmerizing the way her hair tickles his neck and how warm she is against him. “I’m gonna miss you,” she declares, her voice a little wobbly. “So much.”

“You don’t have to,” says Eponine quietly.

Both Marius and Cosette freeze a second, and then Cosette lets go of Marius, turning her head towards Eponine again, who’s looking very resolute.

“What do you mean?” Marius asks, because Cosette doesn’t.

“You can stay with him,” Eponine says, staring at Cosette, and only her. “I’ve seen - I’m not blind, Cosette, I know you like him and -”

Cosette’s cheeks darken. Her hands curl up in a fist, and she straightens.

“So what if I do?” she retorts. “You know you do too! What does that even means, _staying with him?_ What about my ship? What about _you,_ Eponine? What are you even trying to accomplish? Do you really think so little of me that you imagine that I would run away with the first boy that happens to -”

“I’m trying to be _good,_ Cosette!” Eponine interrupts her, clearly exasperated.

“You’re being an idiot, that’s all!” Cosette replies. “Worse,” she adds with a trembling voice. “You’re trying to _leave me._ ”

Eponine purses her lips.

“It might be for the best -” she begins.

“No!” Cosette spats, and oh, she looks angry now, truly angry, and there are tears in the corner of her eyes. “No, I am tired of people leaving me because they think it’s for the best! My mom left me, and I ended up with the Thénardiers. My dad left me alone on a ship because he thought I would be better _lonely,_ and not knowing where he was, rather than _in danger._ And now you? I’m not letting this happen, Eponine! Yes, I love Marius, and I would have liked it if we stayed together more, but I’m _in love with you,_ I’ve been in love with you for so long, _I am not leaving you._ Understood?”

“... Understood,” Eponine whispers.

“I could, um - I could stay,” Marius quickly says in the silence that follows.

He blushes hard when Eponine and Cosette slowly turn their heads to look back at him. The possibility is dizzying now that he’s allowing himself to think about it, and he hopes, he hopes so much that he hasn’t been wrong, and he didn’t _mean_ to ruin their moment but if maybe - maybe if they say yes -

“If you want to,” he stammers. “If you were okay with it. I’m - I like you. both of you. I told you that already, I think but I just. You never have to leave each other. I could stay.”

Cosette blinks several times very quickly like she can’t quite understand what he’s saying to her until a slow, beaming smile appears on her lips.

“You could,” she agrees, delighted. “You could stay, of course you could.”

She glances at Eponine, who looks at the both of them with an hesitating smile.

“You could,” she repeats.

Cosette laughs, pulls Eponine closer to her, and goes on her tiptoes to kiss her. Marius watches, bemused and so happy he could probably cry, and tells himself that they’re exactly as he’d imagined them when they kiss, _beautiful._ They’re so beautiful even when they separate too, and look again at him. Marius raises up his head when Cosette bends over, putting one of her small hands on his cheek, and presses her lips against his enthusiastically. He hums contentedly when he feels Eponine’s fingers settle on the back of his neck, and as soon as Cosette moves away (but not far, he never wants her to be far again), Eponine’s mouth covers his own and it’s perfect, it’s amazing.

“The three of us, then,” Cosette says when they stop kissing.

“Yes,” Marius and Eponine agree. 

 

“Good,” Cosette concludes, grinning so hard it must hurt, and then she’s embracing them again, and Marius closes his eyes, his heart beating incredibly hard in his chest, and doesn't think about anything that isn't Eponine or Cosette. 

 

 


End file.
